This is a sad day for me and my family. This week, on a tuesday afternoon, my dear uncle, Donald Dearolf, had died of lymphoma. He's been battling it for sixteen years now, and this year, he had taken turn for the worst.
Last week on Sunday night, I got to see him while he was still in hospice, and he would drift in and out of sleep. My mom and sister were there, along with my cousin, Kate, and my Aunt Sue. (We affectionately call her Uncle Shue, on account of how many uncles we have in our family.) Sue and Kate are Don's wife and daughter, respectively. Anyway, there was also my oldest cousin, Joel, my Uncle Bill, Kate's by-then fiancé, Doug, and a few other people my uncle knew. While he was napping, we all told stories about how he shaped our lives, and made them wonderful ones. I gave my uncle my golden clover for good luck. It's a solid gold four leaf clover that's big enough to fit in the palm of your hands. (Or is it just gold-plated? Eh, who cares, I still like it.) My mom gave it to me as a good luck charm, and I kept it hopes that one day, my dreams would come true. I knew it was only a matter of time before his time would come, but I still thought it'd be a nice way to comfort him during his struggle. When we left, my mom told me how proud she was of how well I managed to keep it together. And to tell the truth, I felt pretty proud of myself, too.
While my uncle was still in hospice, Kate and Doug got married, and she gained two stepdaughters in Amanda and Ally. Amanda's the oldest of the two, and just like me, she's an Otaku! Ally looks an awful lot like Kate with glasses, hair and all. But anyway, the wedding was wonderful, and the dinner at Loxley's was superb.
Then on Tuesday afternoon, my mom called and told me the sad news. My uncle's time had run out, and soon, he died. The few people I knew were there were her, my dad, and Uncle Shue. Dad texted me and told me he was there to witness him moving on to meet with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Much to my surprise, Uncle Shue was happy. But it all made sense to me when my mom said it was because his suffering had finally ended, and he at last, he's moved on to the Great Beyond.
I didn't cry when I first heard that my dear uncle passed away. But hours went by, and tears started to form in my eyes. To say I was crying was an understatement; I was bawling like a baby in my sister's guest room. She and my brother-in-law came in to comfort me, reminding me that our uncle's finally free from his suffering, and that he's moved on to a better place.
Now that I'm home, I've decided to spend as much time as I can with my mom. Nothing's wrong with her, but my uncle's passing made me realize that I should spend as much time with my family and loved ones as possible. And while we're all planning for my uncle's funeral, I'll always remember him for who he was before his lymphoma got worse: a talented artist and wood carver; a loving husband and father; a caring uncle; a kindhearted soul; a man with strong willpower.
Rest in Peace, Donald Dearolf. Amen.